


Broken

by Can_O_Wyrms



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: I don't knowwwww, Psycho Henry, This was an idea that just popped into my head one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Can_O_Wyrms/pseuds/Can_O_Wyrms
Summary: Endless loops of painfully dying, seeing your friends die, and seeing the monsters that the rest had become doesn’t do much for your mental health.I may or may not continue this based on if people like it!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Broken

Henry couldn’t remember when exactly had the change taken place. Maybe somewhere around the two hundredth loop. When he finally came to terms with the fact he couldn’t save anyone, that he couldn’t change anything in the end. Then it started. Little things, at first. Just snatching the dustpan from Sammy’s hands and hitting him before Henry himself could get hit. It wasn’t too bad. After all, he was sick of getting a concussion in every loop. 

  
  


_Henry sighed, staring at the spot where he would get hit with a dustpan. Every time. Every. Single. Time. He’d tried to run before, but somehow Sammy always caught up to him. This time, he wasn’t in the mood to have a severe migraine later or listen to Sammy’s raving mad preaching. Really, he never was, but he was just about fed up with the whole thing this time. So as soon as he reached that spot, he whirled around, surprising Sammy. With a quick movement of his hand, he snatched the dustpan away._

_He intended to run, he really had, but when the cold ink of Sammy’s hand touched his, he reacted on muscle memory. He gripped the handle of the pan tightly and swiftly hit Sammy on the head. With a groan, Sammy collapsed, leaving Henry, who was first still, then blinking in surprise at himself. Not at what he had done, but what he was feeling._

_He’d hurt Sammy. He should feel remorse like he always had when hurting anything. Even killing the Butcher Gang had been hard on Henry. Instead, he felt a sick, twisted sense of gratification. He supposed he’d always wanted to get back at_ _Sammy for trying to sacrifice him over and over again. Waving it off as nothing more than petty revenge, he’d walked off._

It escalated quickly. It wasn’t hard to want more once you realized that you could change things, _so many things_ if you just tried violence instead of kindness. So he gave up that old way of thought, that way of feeling sympathy for them. For… these monsters. Snapping the projectionist’s cables saved him a lot of trouble trying to maneuver around him.

_The Projectionist screeched and charged. Henry made to move, but suddenly stopped. He was tired. So tired. He was tired of doing their little dance, charging and dodging as he raced around, collecting ink hearts. He just wanted to try. Just try. So when the Projectionist charged, Henry dodged, skidding to the side of the monster, before gripping the wires and cables sticking out of the back of his neck. The Projectionist let out a screech._

_Henry pulled the wires, hard. The screech cut off abruptly._

Simply flinging a handful of ink at Alice saved the wasted time of doing her little tasks, and saved Boris. Henry found it delightful in particular when the ink made her screech and collapse into a pool of ink, bubbling until Alice emerged once again as a searcher. Her greatest fear come true.

_“He crawled in here... trailing his tainted ink to my door! It could've blah blah... Blah blah blah back! BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH! ... “ Henry idly dipped his fingers in a little puddle of ink as he tuned out. He’d already heard this little spiel so many times it was ingrained in his brain. Alice noticed, however, and screeched, “Errand boy! Pay attention! You don’t want your little wolf friend to… disappear, do you?”_

_In response, Henry raised his head and flicked some ink at her. As soon as it made contact with her face, Alice began to shriek, clutching her head. “ERRAND BOY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Henry only flicked some more, staring at her with dead eyes._

_The ink seemed to almost sizzle into her skin, and she let out a horrifying scream. Her form began to rapidly melt, and Alice scrabbled at herself as if she could prevent the dribbling ink from running. Henry looked on, now with the slightest hint of curiosity._ _So she hadn’t been overreacting when she screamed about the ink that the butcher gang clone had left. Ah, well, he might as well help the process along._

 _Scooping up another handful, he threw it again. With a grotesque scream and the sizzle of ink, her face began to melt into nothing but liquid again, as did the rest of her body. Then she was gone. Henry waited quite a while before turning around to leave. Suddenly, a searcher popped up from the puddle Alice had left. Henry struck it down with no emotion._ _  
_ _  
_ _But as he left, one could just make out a subtle smile on his face._

Or lovely the way Sammy would screech for his ‘savior’ as Henry tied him up for a change, and began to dissect him alive. Music to his ears. And that wonderful feeling as Sammy’s struggles became weaker and weaker, before coming to a stop. Oh, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t discovered this sooner. 

_Sammy blearily opened his eyes, his vision foggy. Last he remembered, he was creeping up behind a human, a rare occurrence in the studio and a great sacrifice for his Lord. Just before he hit the sheep, however, they had snatched the dustpan from him and hit him instead. As he fell, the last thing he had seen was the human’s smile, stretching eerily wide. Almost like his Lord._

_As his eyes cleared up, he could see the same smile and wondered how he could have thought his smile to be like his Lord’s. No, it was so much worse. “Sheep, let me go this instant!” He screamed, struggling against his bonds. They only smiled even more, and reached to a nearby table, not once taking their eyes off Sammy. Sammy froze when he saw what was in the human’s hand. “S-sheep?” He hesitantly asked, his demeanor instantly changing. It sounded almost like a plea. He tore his eyes away from the scalpel- how had he found that? And looked at his face, hoping to see a shred of remorse, of horror, even maybe of hatred. Of anything._

_His hopes died as soon as he looked into his eyes. Dead, cold, lifeless eyes. Emotionless. Vacant, and devoid of any expression. As if the person who owned those eyes would murder people just because they could, and no other reason. He shuddered. And suddenly he felt fear coursing through his veins, and frantically he began to struggle again._

_For the first time, the human spoke. Or rather, softly sang. What, Sammy couldn’t make out, but their very voice made Sammy tremble. And something told him that this was all wrong, Wrong, **WRONG**! Sammy didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from, but never once did he doubt them. Henry was supposed to be nice, to be caring, to be… to be a friend, there to support someone in their time of need. He wasn’t supposed to be THIS. _

_In the middle of the song, the human- no, this monster couldn’t possibly be human- the… the MONSTER raised his scalpel and placed it down, gently, upon Sammy’s chest._

_The sound of Henry’s soft singing and Sammy’s screams echoed across the studio._

  
  


Henry began to sing softly again, this time the full tune of what he had hummed as he had gutted Sammy..

_“A dove flying over meadows of dream,_

_Silhouetted by the sun and glowing._

_High above a gushing stream_

_So quietly the water was flowing._

_Then dripping blood paints the sky_

_And the meadow runs with red_

_And suddenly a mourning cry._

_The shining dove is dead._

_But the fallen dove didn’t depart._

_No, the fallen dove refused._

_It stitched together its broken heart,_

_though it was lopsided and abused._

_Their feathers, such pure white, slowly began to crack._

_And it found, much to its delight, that it had turned an inky black.”_

* * *

Joey stared. He stared at Henry, who was standing across the counter, idly tapping his fingers on the table and humming a tune. He remembered the first few cycles when Henry had come through here, crying and screaming, and Joey had to force his body to move. Now he didn’t even need to control Henry for him to listen to the entire monologue all over again and go back into the studio.

He would have just thought Henry had come to terms with this whole situation, but as he watched Henry’s recent loops, it clearly showed that was not the case. Henry brutally murdering every being he came across- even Boris- was not called reconciling with what was happening.

And when Henry looked up at Joey, Joey saw his eyes for the first time. They were not the eyes of the man he once knew, the man he was once best friends with. No, those dead, unfeeling eyes were the eyes of a psycho. A madman. Joey had often been called those names, but oh, he wished the people who had said that could see Henry now. Even Joey couldn’t help but feel a wave of fear, despite knowing he could control Henry if worst came to worst. 

“What’s wrong, Joey?” Henry smiled, a scary, cold smile. “Aren’t you going to run through the script, old friend? Hm? I’m waiting!” Joey let out a breath, and in a shaky voice recited his lines. 

Henry nodded through the whole thing, and when it was over, nonchalantly walked over to the door and pulled it open. “See you soon, Joey!” He looked over and waved. Then, he stepped over the threshold, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Joey collapsed into the closest chair, still stunned. Suddenly, the realization of what he had done crashed onto him all at once, and he began to hysterically sob. He’d never meant- he’d never meant for Henry to become this. He’d only wanted to make a story, to have Henry be the hero who struggles through it all. Henry had fit the role perfectly. But the more Joey thought about it, the more he regretted even building the ink machine. It… It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

  
He was interrupted from his thoughts by loud footsteps coming closer to him. Joey let out a sigh and wiped his eyes, resuming his normal position at the sink. When he felt Henry behind him, he began.  
“Henry? So soon?”


End file.
